


Sick

by Marsalias



Series: Grandfather Clocks [10]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Clockwork takes care of Danny, Danny is unlucky, Gen, Lost Time, Sick Fic, Snakes, ghost illness, if you read Mortified and were wondering about the viral snakes on the plague floor, mild body horror, well here's the explanation, written last year this isn't about the coronavirus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsalias/pseuds/Marsalias
Summary: Danny, Sam, and Tucker can handle a bunch of low-level snake ghosts.  Right?
Series: Grandfather Clocks [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706959
Comments: 9
Kudos: 328
Collections: Love dan





	Sick

Nephthys stood before Clockwork, feet spread. hands on her hips, chin raised. Her blindingly white smile matched the color of her robes and contrasted with that of her face. "I win," she said. "That's three out of five. You know what that means." The last sentence was sung.

Clockwork couldn't decide whether to look at his fellow Ancient and adoptive 'sister,' or at his time viewing screen and the scene playing out within it. "How do you keep doing that?" he asked, frustrated. "It's statistically improbable!"

"You know, you sound like the Observants when you do that."

Clockwork fixed Nephthys with an offended look. "I do not. They would say 'impossible' not 'improbable.' But how _do_ you do it?"

"I'm not cheating, if that's what you're asking," said Nephthys, slyly, grin threatening to engulf her entire face. They were ghosts. It was possible. It had happened before. Then, she relented. "You may be able to see the parade of time from above, with all of its twists and turns, and the paths that it may or may not take, but _I_ know the drivers and performers." Her smile turned smug. "Just like I know you. Now, take it off."

Clockwork flipped back his hood, reflecting that he should really know better than to gamble with Nephthys by now. Still, she was among the very few ghosts whom he could call friend, rather than ally, enemy, annoyance, or responsibility.

"No, no," said Nephthys, "the whole thing. That's what we agreed on."

"I know, I know," said Clockwork, removing the clasp and then swinging his cloak off of his shoulders. "Just give me some time."

Nephthys narrowed her eyes as Clockwork folded the cloak over his arm. "That's a trap. You want me to say, 'then take some' or 'make some,' then you'll blink out and come back with that cloak back on and say that, well, you experienced a week with it off, and I told you to do it, so I can't fault you. That's not going to happen. You're going a full, objective week with that off."

Clockwork hadn't expected it to work, so he shrugged.

Nephthys leaned back again and shook her head. "I don't understand it. You've picked out such a pretty form, but you hide it."

Truth be told, Clockwork had neither noticed nor particularly cared that his current guise was 'pretty' until Nephthys had brought it up. Yes, he had endeavored to make it aesthetically pleasing, but his main goal had been to craft a form that would allow him to interact appropriately with Daniel. 'Pretty' was a side effect. But Nephthys had brought it up, repeatedly, and now Clockwork was beginning to wonder if it was a minor Obsession of hers, or if she just really enjoyed teasing him.

Self-consciousness regarding one's appearance was both a novel and overrated experience, in Clockwork's opinion. His sympathy for humans, who were trapped in their bodies by fate, not choice. had grown exponentially in the past few months.

Being the infinitely old and wise, not to mention mature, ghost that he was, Clockwork thought that he was handling it quite well.

He changed into his oldest, most decrepit form, just to spite Nephthys. Her smile didn't waver.

"That's the spirit I know and love," she said. "Come on, let's make those cookies. You still have the oven that defies the laws of thermodynamics and laughs in the face of entropy?"

"Of course I do," said Clockwork. "It has gotten more complex since last time, though."

"But that's part of the fun! The challenge!" she said, leading the way from the viewing room. "Human conceptions of natural laws..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "They're so creative, they're so inventive, but they're just missing a few pieces. It's cute, isn't it?"

"Hm," said Clockwork, not really listening. There was a tickle at the back of his mind, a possible future version of himself trying to get his attention. He paused, letting Nephthys head to the kitchen without him.

There was a knock on the door. Clockwork, surprised, stopped time. He must be an early version of himself. He was rarely surprised in the final version of events. He flew to the door, and opened it.

Crouched before the door, in ghost form, was Daniel.

Clockwork frowned as he took in the child's posture, doubled over, pale face half hidden by his knees, arms pressed desperately into his stomach. Clockwork's gaze drifted back, to where Daniel's friends, Sam and Tucker, were standing. They, too, looked ill, their faces tinted green with more than the light of the Zone.

There was a limit to the amount of information that Clockwork could receive this way, and he had been trying to be sparse about stopping time since Daniel had begun exhibiting temporal powers, so he started time again.

Daniel looked up at him as he did so, eyes dim with pain. "I'm sorry," said Daniel, his voice hoarse, words slightly slurred. "I know you're not the ghost of miracle cures, but we-" he broke off, first coughing, then gagging and choking. Finally, on hands and knees, he retched, an ectoplasm green snake slithering from between his lips. Behind Daniel, Tucker pressed his hands over his mouth, and Sam bit her lip. Daniel buried his head in his knees and moaned.

Clockwork put a comforting hand on Daniel's back, and then reversed himself, throwing himself back to his past.

"- cute, isn't it?" Nephthys was saying, as she walked to the kitchen.

Clockwork went to the door, summoning a duplicate to go investigate the recent past, and throwing his cloak down on the couch. He grimaced as he learned what had happened. He had known that something similar would happen soon, but the addition of random chance often made it difficult for him to pinpoint exactly when certain events would occur. Nephthys had then distracted him from the matter, allowing the event to sneak up on him. Not that Clockwork would dream of blaming her.

"Clockwork?" said Nephthys, noticing his deviation from their path.

"My apologies," said Clockwork, and he truly was apologetic. "Something has come up."

"I understand," said Nephthys, "but you aren't getting rid of me that easily. I'll be in the kitchen when you're done."

Clockwork nodded to her in reply, distracted by branching possible futures. All too often, finding the best one was like finding a needle I'm a haystack.

He donned an impassive expression, and opened the door, just seconds before Daniel knocked on it. Daniel's eyes widened as they always did at this tiny display of power.

"You had best come in," said Clockwork.

.

.

.

Amity Park, earlier.

.

Amity Park was having an normal day. Well, normal for Amity Park, anyway. Or perhaps average would be a better term, although nothing in Amity Park could be labeled either by the standards of the wider world.

Still, that morning, people had gotten up, eaten breakfast, gone to school and work, avoided ghosts, taken shortcuts both mundane and supernatural, and had generally carried on with their lives. A few minutes before noon, another daily occurrence made itself known. A portal opened up, and started disgorging ghosts.

This particular portal was a bit unusual in that it opened up directly over city hall, and in that the ghosts weren't Amity Park regulars, but instead a large number of neon green snakes. Still. Average. Such was life in Amity Park.

Also normal: the arrival of the resident ghost and the resident ghost hunters, all of whom, including the ghost, were grumbling about missing lunch.

The thing was, the snakes were small, and fast, and, unfortunately, the resident ghost hunters were more interested in fighting the resident ghost than they were in fighting the invaders. A large number of the snakes escaped into the city at large. This was atypical.

So, without any way of tracking the escaped snakes without running afoul of his parents, Valerie, the GIW, etcetera, etcetera, Danny went back to school. He wasn't at all happy about this. There were a bunch of potentially poisonous ghost snakes slithering all around Amity Park. Still, there wasn't anything he could do. At least if he left, the ghost hunters might actually go after them, instead of him. If he stayed, he'd just be playing hide and snake with the hunters.

Hide and snake. Why was he like this? That wasn't even a good pun.

He got back just in time to be late for fifth period, and spent the next hour brooding. Obsessing, really. He didn't like not being able to help, he didn't like the fact that there was a threat he couldn't deal with right now. He didn't like his parents and Valerie, and who knew how many other people being in danger without him there to help, to protect them.

He broke three pencils and worried st a scab until it came away, bloody.

Sam and Tucker were seated next to him in sixth, though, and they were able to talk him out of it. They were able to appeal to his sense of reason, and agreed to help him hunt down any snakes that remained after school. They also agreed not to tell Jazz. Jazz was busy with college applications, and Danny didn't want to distract her.

Then he only had to survive, jittery, through seventh, and then he was out, they were out, under their favorite tree in the park, and they could get down to buisiness.

"Your parents and the Guys in White are still out and about," said Tucker, looking at his PDA, the Ghost Watch theme playing through its tiny speaker. "Valerie's gone, though. At least, there aren't any mentions of Red Huntress around."

"Makes sense," said Danny. "Her shift is starting in, like, fifteen minutes." He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "I should stay human if the Guys in White are still around. That should be fine. They were class threes, maybe fours."

"No resistance to the thermos?" asked Sam.

"Nope," said Danny, popping the 'p.'

The class system wasn't something that ghosts used themselves, it was too general, and ghosts were made of exceptions, but it was a useful shorthand for power levels. Quite possibly, it was the most useful thing the GIW had ever created. Class threes and lower could always be sucked into the thermos. Fours and higher usually had to either be distracted or weakened first. The Box Ghost was a low four. Ember was a five, when she wasn't supercharged. Spectra was a six, again, when she wasn't supercharged. So was Walker. Danny typically registered as a seven when in ghost form. Vlad, too, was a seven, if a higher one than Danny. The Ancients were probably eights. By Tucker's calculations, Pariah Dark had been a nine. A terrifying, terrifying nine.

"We should split up, then," decided Sam.

Danny gave her an incredulous look. "Sam, that's what people who are about to die in horror movies say. People who split up are eaten by CG monsters and guys in cheap rubber suits."

"Well, it's a good thing that we don't have any CG monsters or guys in cheap rubber suits. Unless you count the Nasty Burger mascot guy."

"Yeah," said Danny. "We have real monsters and guys in expensive white suits. Who are also monsters. Just, like, morally, rather than physically."

Sam crossed her arms. "I get where you're coming from," said Sam, "but, seriously, Tucker and I can handle class fours perfectly fine. Heck, Mr Lancer can handle the odd class four. Remember what he did to Boxy?"

Danny nodded reluctantly. "But this isn't just one snake. There's a whole horde of them. It was like Sharknado, except with snakes."

"Have you ever even seen that movie?" asked Sam.

"Let's stay on topic here, what if they're poisonous or something?"

"Yeah," said Tucker, "what if they're poisonous?"

"Okay, okay. We can compromise here. If they're poisonous, we stick together, if not, we split up. Okay? Because if we split up, we can cover way more ground, and get the snakes way faster."

"Okay," agreed Danny as Tucker nodded.

"So, first question, did the snakes have round pupils or pointy pupils?"

"Round," said Danny, "but even if that means something for normal snakes, it doesn't need to mean the same thing for ghost snakes."

"I know," said Sam, "I'm just trying not to waste time. Were the snakes striped?"

"No," said Danny. "They were all solid green."

"Okay, so we can't definitively say that they are poisonous... And isn't the word venomous, anyway?"

"Yeah," said Danny. "Do we... I don't know, catch one or something? How would we even tell if they're pois- venomous? Would we like, look in their mouths or something?"

"That sounds dangerous," said Tucker.

"Eh, I have thick gloves," said Danny, flexing his hands. He could reinforce his gloves with ice, too, if he wanted to.

"I think that would work," agreed Sam. "Venomous snakes are supposed to have venom pouches inside their mouths, so we could probably tell by looking."

"Okay," said Danny. "Let's go catch a snake."

.

.

.

"I have no idea what I'm looking for here," said Danny, staring into the snake's mouth. He had gone ghost to catch this snake. Tucker was at the mouth of the alley, watching out for GIW agents. Sam was next to Danny, playing herpetologist.

"Well, I don't see anything obvious. I think that they'd be obvious." She prodded the inside of the snake's mouth with a stick. "Nothing's squirting out." She made a face. "Could we stick it in the thermos now? This feels kind of cruel."

"Yeah," said Danny, really uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Sam sucked the snake into the thermos, and Danny returned to human form.

"I guess we're splitting up, then," said Danny, both figuratively and literally dispirited.

"Yeah," said Tucker, rejoining them. "But, hey, we'll be on the F-Phones, right? And, this way, we might find them all early enough to do some real hanging out."

"Yeah," said Danny, brightening. "Yeah. You will call me if anything goes wrong, promise?"

"You'd better believe it," said Tucker.

"Sure," said Sam.

.

.

.

Sam was the first to be bitten.

This could have been predicted. She was a better fighter than Tucker, but she was also far more reckless. She also lacked Danny's ghost sense and superhuman reflexes. The prototype miniature detectors that they had snagged from the Fenton lab had been useful, but they weren't terribly accurate.

She discovered one snake by stepping on it. It reacted to that discovery by biting her on her calf.

She had caught it in the thermos before she had registered the pain.

Once she had realized that, heck, she had been bitten, all she did was shrug, check that it wasn't bleeding too much, rub some (improperly named) Fenton Ecto-Block cream into it, and slap a bandaid onto it. The snakes weren't venomous, and even if they were, the Ecto-Block would break down the ectoplasm it was made of.

Then she went to find more snakes.

.

.

.

Tucker's reaction was more sensible. Upon having a snake drop on his head, he freaked out. He had always had a slight phobia of snakes. It was fine as long as they weren't touching him, but when they were...

It was, perhaps, ironic that Tucker, the kid with so many phobias, was best friends with a half-ghost superhero who kept leading him into situations where he would have to face said phobias... But maybe it wasn't ironic, just appropriate. Maybe it wasn't chance, but some weird subconscious ghost instinct. Danny did eat emotions. a Not that Tucker would blame Danny if that was the case.

He was too busy freaking about the snakes.

He called Danny.

.

.

.

Danny, on the other hand, had been doing quite well until Tucker called him. He, after all, had advantages that his friends lacked, and was, surprisingly, more cautious than Sam in certain situations.

But then, Tucker did call, and Danny, in his haste to get to his friend, ran straight into a large... he hesitated to call it a nest. They weren't nesting there. A large conglomeration of ghost snakes.

Individually, the snakes were no threat to Danny. Even a group of five or ten wouldn't have been a problem. But with a group of over twenty, Danny couldn't keep track of all of them. There were simply too many. He was bitten.

He was bitten, and he instantly knew that something was very wrong.

Maybe the snakes weren't venomous, but there was something in their bite that made his core very upset. He felt sick. He hadn't been sick since... Goodness. He hadn't been sick since freshman year, the first time he had encountered Desiree.

If he was being affected like this, what was it doing to Sam and Tucker?

He fought off the remaining snakes, gaining another couple of bites, then went to Tucker's rescue. Sort of. Tucker didn't really need to be rescued. There had only been two snakes. Tucker had already gotten one of them.

"You got bitten?" asked Danny, chewing on his lip.

"Yeah?" said Tucker inquisitively. "Just a bit, on my shoulder. What's wrong?"

"I don't know. There's something wrong with these." He rubbed at one of his own bite wounds. "Let's find Sam."

.

.

.

Sam was initially unconcerned. Her bite wasn't bothering her, and she was just a little amused by Tucker's freakout. But then Danny explained how he was feeling, and how he was getting progressively worse, she started to get worried, too.

"We should go to the Far Frozen," said Sam. "They'll know what this is, or how to fix it, at least."

"Yeah," said Danny, nodding and pale. That was a better sign than anything else to indicate how bad Danny felt. He'd normally never leave Amity Park when there were potentially dangerous ghosts lurking in it. But his next words made his thoughts more clear. "For you guys, too. And we need to get an antidote or something, for anyone else who got bitten."

"I think this might be just a ghost thing," said Sam. "I feel fine. What about you, Tucker?"

"I'm okay," said Tucker. "This hurts, but I've had worse. Anyway, I'd be getting notifications from Ghost Watch and stuff about people getting sick. We can't be the first people to get bitten by these things."

Danny made a distressed noise. He didn't like thinking about his people being hurt.

Then Tucker's PDA made a noise. He pulled it out and took a look at the screen. "Oh, heck."

.

.

.

Danny was beginning to feel nauseous by the time they got to FentonWorks and started up the Specter Speeder. Sam took the wheel, Danny laid down on the backseat.

Neither she nor Tucker were feeling very well either. They weren't as poorly off as Danny was, but they were definitely sick.

They took off, into the Ghost Zone. "Danny, are you going to be okay until we get there? It takes a couple of hours to get there."

"I think I-" Danny broke off, coughing. "Probably," he said finally, falling back onto the seat. He did feel a little better in the Ghost Zone, but not much.

"I'll get you a bag," said Tucker.

"Thanks," said Danny weakly.

They flew on. For the first half an hour or so, the flight was almost peaceful. The few ghosts that attacked were weak, and were easily repealed by the Speeder's defences. Sam and Tucker didn't feel like they were getting any worse.

On the other hand, Danny would lapse into a coughing, almost choking, fit every few minutes. Tucker was leaning backwards over his chair, watching Danny with concern. Sam had almost crashed twice, and the second time she had only been saved by the Zone's inconstant tangibility.

Then, Danny doubled over coughing again. It felt different this time, though, deeper. The arm he was using to cover his cough was splattered with a fine spray of ectoplasm and blood. This was bad. He was choking, now. He could hardly breathe, and while that wasn't as much of a problem for him as it might be for a normal human, it certainly wasn't pleasant. Then something, something inside him, moved. He gagged. His stomach had clearly had enough of this, whatever it was. It felt like it had been tied in knots.

But he didn't, quite, throw up. Nothing came up. Nothing came in, either, and Danny realized he couldn't breathe at all. There was something in his throat, something blocking his airway. His throat convulsed. He gagged, and tried to remember how to do the Heimlich maneuver. Then the thing moved. It slithered, right out over his tongue, leaving a slick trail of ectoplasm behind it.

Danny gasped for breath, staring at the bright green snake on the floor. Suddenly, the snake was encased in blue-white light and pulled into the thermos in Tucker's hands. Tucker was staring at Danny, shocked.

"Danny..?" he started. "Did you just..?" This was outside of Tucker's comfort zone. It was outside of Danny's too, for that matter.

Danny pulled himself into a little miserable ball on the seat. The Far Frozen was still quite a ways off. At least another hour and a half. Danny wasn't sure he could stand to wait that long. There was another option, but Danny didn't want to bother Clockwork with an illness. Not after the ecto-acne incident. Danny didn't want Clockwork to think he was taking advantage again. That had been bad of Danny.

Something moved inside Danny's stomach. He moaned. He wasn't going to ask for a cure, or time travel. He was just going to ask for help, and maybe a hint. Possibly a hug. Danny needed a hug.

"Sam," he rasped. "Turn right twelve degrees, and angle us thirty-four up." That's about where that odd, secondary tug on his core led.

Sam turned halfway around in her seat. "But-"

"I don't think I can wait for the Far Frozen," he admitted. "Clockwork's closer."

.

.

.

It was silly, but Danny was always a little surprised when Clockwork opened the door before he knocked on it. Danny knew perfectly well that Clockwork could see the future. Of course he would know that Danny was coming.

Danny opened his mouth to apologize, but Clockwork just invited them in.

Then Danny noticed that Clockwork wasn't wearing his cloak. Danny had never seen Clockwork without his cloak. He had seen him without his hood on, but that was different. Danny was about to ask if something was wrong, when he doubled over choking again. Then, all that was on his mind was the fact that there was a snake pulling itself up his throat.

As soon as he had air again, he realized that he had just vomited a snake onto Clockwork's floor. "Sorry," he whispered, unable to manage anything louder. He felt something shift, and the snake disappeared.

"There is no need to apologize," said Clockwork. "It's alright."

Danny sniffed, and nodded, not really capable of arguing why it wasn't alright.

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Sam.

"This is a common Ghost Zone malady," said Clockwork, not really answering as he steered Danny to the couch. "A favorite creation of a woman who calls herself Pestilence. It functions similarly to a virus, but on a larger scale. A snake bites a victim, injecting a portion of its ectoplasm, which forces the victim to produce more snakes from their own ectoplasm." He gently pushed Danny to sit on the couch. "Your ghostly immune system is still nascent. It will take some time for you to fight this off."

"What about Sam and Tucker?" asked Danny, voice still hoarse. "They're sick, too."

"Yes. That is a problem," said the older ghost, scanning Sam and Tucker. "You have enough ectoplasm to be infected, but not enough of it to actually form snakes. You also lack an appropriate immune response, meaning that although you will not get sicker, you also won't get better."

"So what do we do?" asked Tucker.

"And what about the people back home?" added Sam.

"The doctors of the Far Frozen have a partial cure."

"Partial?" managed Danny.

"Yes," said Clockwork. "It unfortunately requires the ectoplasm of a ghost that has recently recovered from the illness as one of its ingredients. I am afraid you will have to suffer through." Clockwork sighed. "I can, however, speed things along. You two should go to the Far Frozen and retrieve the cure. Daniel will be recovered when you return."

"Amity?" said Danny.

"Your parents will be able to replicate the cure, given a sample."

Danny let himself relax a little at that. He couldn't relax completely. Not with snakes squirming and slithering in his stomach.

"Are you going to be okay here, Danny?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," said Danny, closing his eyes. He listened listlessly to Clockwork giving Sam and Tucker more instructions and explanations.

It would take Danny longer to recover than it would take for Sam and Tucker to get to the Far Frozen and back to Long Now. Clockwork would have to pinch time, so that Danny would experience several days in the time that they were gone. They weren't happy about this. They had only met Clockwork once or twice since the bad future incident, and they didn't entirely trust him, even if Danny did.

Danny started to cough again, and then all attention was back on him. He finished, gasping, thankful that he hadn't vomited another snake. "Please," he said. "I'll be fine. Faster you go, faster you get better."

"Okay," said Sam, looking both reluctant and guilty. She had a guilt complex as bad as Danny's. She just usually covered it up better.

Tucker gave Danny a hug. "Get well soon, dude. I'm sorry I distracted you."

"Not your fault," said Danny, hugging Tucker back. He really needed that hug. "Be safe."

"Yeah, we'll be fine," said Tucker. Sam nodded.

They left, still looking at Clockwork nervously. Clockwork sighed. Danny winced, sure that the sigh, and the disappointment it signified, was directed towards him. Clockwork must have seen the wince, or have predicted it, because he turned more fully towards Danny.

"Daniel-" started Clockwork.

"I'm sorry," said Danny.

"What for?" asked Clockwork, raising an eyebrow. The old ghost touched Danny's forehead with the back of his hand. "It is only natural to seek help when you are sick, or injured. I am glad you came to me."

"But you-" Danny broke off, coughing again. "But with the ecto-acne..." he trailed off as Clockwork shook his head.

"I only meant to show you the dangers a paradox could present, not scare you away from seeking my help," explained Clockwork, gently. He ran a hand through Danny's hair. "You need to replenish your ectoplasm reserves. It could evolve to be dangerous for you if they get too low. It will take me a moment to put things together," he sighed again, "and to prevent my sister from demolishing my kitchen. Rest," he said, patting Danny's shoulder. "Everything will be fine."

Danny nodded. Clockwork favored him with a smile, and left.

Danny curled onto the couch, hoping that Clockwork wouldn't take too long. This was scary in a way that he didn't often deal with, and it hurt. He felt invaded and fragile, and now that Clockwork was gone, Danny was worrying about Sam and Tucker. They were out alone and unprotected in the Ghost Zone.

He was feeling unprotected, himself. He wrapped his arms around himself. He really wanted Clockwork. He wanted a hug. He wanted the snakes out of his stomach.

Then the coughing started up again. Danny gripped the couch for support, trying to stop for long enough to take a breath. It felt like forever before he was able to flop back onto the couch, panting like he had just run a marathon.

Danny then realized, to his combined embarrassment and horror, that he had torn the fabric cover off of the couch. Great. Poor Clockwork. First his sister (what was up with that, anyway?) was destroying his kitchen, and now Danny was wrecking his couch. It would be one thing if snake vomit was involved, he didn't have any control over that, but he had just torn the couch- Wait. Wait a second. This wasn't part of the couch. This was something that had been draped over the couch. He examined the fabric with a detached interest that became more intense when he realized what it was.

It was Clockwork's cloak. He recognized it, the color, the cut, the clasp, the embroidery on the interior lining, the way the lower edge trailed into mist. He could feel Clockwork's ectosignature in the weave.

A bout of shakes and shivers wracked his body. A new symptom. Wonderful. He hugged the cloak close to his body. It was almost as good as a hug, except not at all. Still, it made him feel better, to have Clockwork's ectosignature so close to him. True, the whole of Long Now, the whole lair, radiated Clockwork's ectosignature, but this was more... intimate? No that had weird connotations. Personal, maybe.

Another coughing fit. He laid down on the couch. Clockwork was taking a long time. He pulled the cloak over his shoulders. This was better. He was tired. The cloak felt nice. He wanted didn't like being sick.

.

.

.

"What was it?" asked Nephthys as Clockwork entered the kitchen. She stood cheerfully over a disaster that even Clockwork would have difficulty cleaning up, her robes somehow spotless. "Fixed everything up?"

"No," said Clockwork, suppressing a groan at Nephthys's antics. "Daniel is here."

Nephthys's eyebrows went up. "He's here?" A smile played around her lips. "You should have said so earlier. I've been dying to meet him. Officially, I mean."

"He has a case of the viral snakes," said Clockwork, pushing debris away from the fridge, and opening it. "He will be here for some time. I'm sure you'll be able to see him before he goes. He isn't at his best at the moment, however. I doubt that he is up to meeting anyone new."

"Well, I'm not new, exactly," said Nephthys, "and I rarely meet anyone at what they would call their best." She helped Clockwork take a bowl of glowing green apples from the fridge. "Daniel, though..." She smiled, pleased and indulgent. "He was a special case from the beginning, wasn't he?"

"Yes," agreed Clockwork. "The very beginning."

"I remember our first meeting," said Nephthys, her voice tinged with exaggerated nostalgia. "It's as if it was only two years ago."

"It was only two years ago."

"Not the most magnificent or glorious of endings," she continued, "but such a brave child, so caring, so selfless. Even with those who are heroes in life, such a sentiment is difficult to maintain in the last moments. And Daniel is so young!"

"Yes. He is young, sick, and expecting me to return," said Clockwork, balancing more foodstuffs on top of one another.

"I'll help you carry these out to him," said Nephthys. "You should get him a blanket, too. This kind of illness can cause odd temperature variations."

"I am aware," said Clockwork, exiting the kitchen. He was concerned that leaving Daniel alone for so long would have a negative effect. Daniel did have a tendency to blame himself for things beyond his control. "Watch for snakes."

Daniel was, thankfully, still on the couch, and still awake. Waking him up would have been necessary, but unpleasant, particularly considering Daniel's current, somewhat pathetic, state. He looked like nothing so much as a kicked puppy: cute, but sad. That he had chosen to wrap himself in Clockwork's discarded cloak, which was really far too large for him, only served to accentuate the image.

Then Clockwork saw how Daniel was looking at Nephthys, and revised his assessment. He looked like a puppy that was _expecting_ to be kicked.

"This is my sister, Nephthys," said Clockwork, settling on the couch next to Daniel. With one hand, he assessed Daniel's temperature and ectosignature, and balanced the food with the other.

"You're the one he loses bets with," said Daniel.

Nephthys smiled wickedly, and perched on the arm of the couch. "That's me," she confirmed.

Clockwork frowned faintly. He didn't like how disordered Daniel's signature was, and he was running a slight fever.

"Are you mad?" asked Daniel.

"Why would I be mad?"

"I took your cloak." Daniel made no move to return the article of clothing.

"I'm not mad," said Clockwork.

"If anything," said Nephthys, "I'm the one he would be upset with." She reached over and flipped up the hood of the cloak. "It's only off because he lost another bet. You'd think that he'd know better at this point."

Daniel giggled a little at that, but the laugh turned into a cough, into choking and gagging, and another snake wound it's way out of Daniel's mouth. Nephthys dispatched it quickly, destroying the disease in a flash of green light. Daniel made a sound like the wheeze of a deflating ball, and retreated farther into the depths of Clockwork's cloak.

Clockwork put a hand on Daniel's back, sending him a steady, but hopefully not overwhelming, flow of ectoenergy. "Daniel," he said, keeping his tone even and gentle, "you need to eat, to replenish what you are loosing."

A whimper that Clockwork interpreted as _"hurts"_ emerged from under the cloak.

"I know," said Clockwork, rubbing Daniel's back in a small, comforting circle. "I know. With what is happening to your stomach and throat, you don't want to eat. It will hurt, but you will feel better."

Slowly, reluctantly, Daniel emerged. He then tipped into Clockwork, snuggling against the older ghost.

"It's alright," said Clockwork, giving Daniel a quick hug. "It will be alright." He shuffled the bowls so that the one he wanted was closest to Daniel. It was full of tiny, multicolored fruits, berries no bigger than the tip of Clockwork's smallest finger, each of which glowed fiercely. They were both small enough and soft enough that Daniel should have no trouble with them, and they were full of vital ectoplasm. They had no official name in any human language, but literal translations from several ghost tongues would give the name 'stardust fruit.' Clockwork thought it appropriate, given Daniel's fascination with the night sky.

Right now, though, the child was eyeing the berries with suspicion and disfavor. "What are they?" he whispered.

"Chenethi Antsha," said Clockwork, picking a tongue Daniel had some familiarity with.

"Stardust?"

"They're tasty," said Nephthys, reaching over to steal one from the bowl. "He grows these himself, you know."

Daniel now looked at the fruit with more interest. His hand emerged from the folds of Clockwork's cloak, and snagged an oblong sky blue berry. It went into his mouth. "It's tart," he offered. Then he made a face. "I don't know if I can keep anything down."

"You will still be able to absorb the ectoplasm," said Clockwork, encouraging Daniel to eat more.

.

.

.

It was a while before Danny had eaten enough to satisfy Clockwork. It wasn't that Danny didn't want to eat, didn't want to feel better, didn't want to obey Clockwork, but eating, chewing, swallowing, was a painful chore, even with how soft and gooey the little berries were. He was exhausted. Expelling those snakes was difficult, taxing. Not being able to breathe while it was happening made it worse.

He just wanted to sleep. Preferably while Clockwork held him. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn't bring himself to consider the wider implications and consequences of his actions at the moment. He was sick, and he wanted to feel better. Clockwork made him feel better. Therefore, he clung to Clockwork. He started coughing again. His stomach to roiled and rolled.

He wasn't going to get to sleep like this. Danny sniffled.

"It's alright," said Clockwork, his arm still around Danny's shoulder. "We've all been here before. Everyone gets sick."

Danny made an ugly, rasping sound in the back of his throat.

"Yes, I have been ill before as well."

"I've had my bad days, too," said Nephthys. She reached over to brush the back of Danny's neck. He flinched, shivering closer to Clockwork. Likely, she intended to be comforting, but Danny didn't know Nephthys very well at all. He had only just met her, not counting a half-formed and uncertain memory of something that may or may not have ever happened. He didn't like people he didn't know touching him. Especially when he was so weak, so vulnerable.

The couch shifted subtly, a sign that someone was moving, shifting their weight, or removing it.

"I'm going to go take another shot at those cookies," said Nephthys. She didn't make a sound, but Danny could feel her with his ghost sense, moving away. A touch of tension he didn't know he was holding onto slipping away.

"She always means well," said Clockwork, by means of explanation. Danny nodded. "She is simply rather enthusiastic, especially about change, and new things. That is her nature."

She did seem nice. She was just a bit too much for Danny to cope with at the moment.

Clockwork picked up a plate that contained what looked like a oblong biscuit. "This will be less pleasant to eat," he admitted, peaking back plastic wrap. "However, it will prevent new snakes from forming for a few hours. Long enough for you to sleep. That is the only thing ot is good for. I could not reccomend it for anything else."

Danny nodded, not questioning how Clockwork had something so specific. He was Clockwork. He had probably seen this coming weeks in advance. Sleep was good. Something that could stop his coughing long enough for him to sleep was nothing short of miraculous in his mind, never mind that his body craved more than just a few hours of slumber.

He pushed himself into more of a sitting position, so that he could eat what looked like a very flaky, dry, and unappetizing brick of... stuff. Actually, it looked a little like particle board, which made him blanch. He had eaten particle board before, courtesy of ghosts throwing him through walls, construction areas, furniture, etcetera. He always got little splinters in his tongue when that happened.

The biscuit wasn't much better, in the end. It was dry and difficult to chew, it poked his alread abused throat on the way down, and it tasted disgusting.

He was so eager to get the taste out of his mouth that he almost choked on the drink that Clockwork handed him next. Then he was choking in ernest, a other snake emerging from between his lips. He looked up at the older ghost with confusion. He had thought that the biscuit was supposed to keep that from happening.

"That remedy doesn't get rid of the snakes that have already formed, unfortunately. That should be the last one. For now." He offered Danny another drink. "This one will help you relax, so you can fall to sleep more quickly."

Danny took the powder blue beverage. Usually, he didn't like drugs, but in this case, with Clockwork prescribing it, he would make an exception. He took a sip. It was thick, sweet, and a little spicy. It reminded him of eggnog in broad strokes, but with different details.

"It will be a while before it takes effect," said Clockwork. "Would you like me to tell you a story, to pass the time?"

Danny nodded.

.

.

.

Three quarters of an hour had passed before Daniel's eyes slid closed, and his chest began to rise and fall in the peaceful rhythm of sleep. When that happened, Clockwork ceased his storytelling, and picked him up, cradling him like a small child.

There was a room in Long Now that had been prepared for Daniel. It was hidden, secure, far from where the prying eyes of the Observants might roam. One could not reach it without knowing Long Now intimately, because the room, like many rooms in Long Now was set on a gear, and the gear moved. Clockwork took Daniel there now.

A bed with thick, plush covers sat beneath a ceiling painted with ancient constellations. Clockwork swept them back, and laid Daniel down. He then removed Daniel's shoes. That done, he went to ease his cloak from Daniel's grasp, but Daniel only pulled the cloak closer.

Well. It wasn't as if Clockwork was going to use it this week, and there was something incredibly precious about the image of Daniel wrapping himself in the cloak. He sighed, and pulled the blankets over Daniel before placing himself in a nearby chair. There was no need to leave. The duplicate he had split off earlier would be more than sufficient for any pressing task that came up. Nephthys was unlikely to _actually_ destroy his kitchen.

Besides Daniel had seized Clockwork's finger in his sleep, and seemed disinclined to release it. Clockwork needed no further excuse to stay.


End file.
